


Breathe

by palliris



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Cuddles, Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, there wasnt ocs, until there WAS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palliris/pseuds/palliris
Summary: Stepping onto Namimori soil is like coming home.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i regret my existence

Reborn comes to in his private sleeping quarters, filled with the overwhelming sense of dread and the need to _protect him, protect_ them-

And the sweat slides off of his forehead but his hands- _his_ hands- are shaky when they reach up to wipe it off. Reborn clenches his tiny fist into the soft cotton of his sheets and remembers with vivid recollection the last thing they had clutched.

The clock on his bedside table reads that it’s half past four in the morning, and figures he might as well get up now. Leon doesn’t question his behavior; instead, the lizard curls up tighter into the re-Arcobaleno. Tugging his hair into some semblance of order and picking up the miniature, discarded suit from atop his desk, Reborn makes his way to the small mirror hanging on the wall.

He’s-

Small.

(Again.)

And with scorn raging as hot as the sun, Reborn lets his frustrations bubble and churn inside of his tiny form. His flames are now bound once more, just as is his freedom, and Reborn would feel hate. But before that, he has someone- _the_ one- to visit, to see if the intense pull in his gut is anything to go by.

He doesn’t cross paths with any of the other Arcobalenos currently stationed in their joint hideaway, and that’s probably for the best. It’s going to be a long plane ride to his destination, and Reborn can’t _wait_.

* * *

Stepping onto Namimori soil is like coming home.

It’s welcoming and comforting in a way his childhood home had never been, and stuck in the crevices of space and time, Reborn can’t help the small smile that worms its way onto his face. He takes small, silent comforts when he can, and right now Reborn feels he deserves it.

Leon rubs into the juncture where his too-small neck and chest meet, and Reborn can’t help the small surge of hope that wells in his chest.

* * *

It’s one thing to see the sky clear, but it’s quite another to see a dead man walking. Technically everyone in this damned _town_ shouldn’t be alive, but it still puts Reborn into a slightly better mood to see people roaming about their lives. He gets stuck on a telephone pole when a familiar touch of black hair runs past him on the street below, and the juvenile sense of glee he gets when they trip (and catch themself) makes him cringe internally. The heart of Namimori is but a child at the moment, it seems.

Being so close to the people who had made it into his student’s chosen guardian group makes him both surprisingly on edge and surreptitiously warm.

Judging by the child’s apparent age, he can guess that his student would be around eight years old at the moment. The thought makes his stomach flutter uncomfortably, especially when he wonders if his student’s mind is the same age.

He’s almost reached the house that has been on his mind for the past seventeen hours when he shudders to a stop. On the edge of his senses, Reborn can feel the absence of his student’s presence keenly. It seems the hitman is too late to have stopped the seal to deny his student’s flames from bursting, and even though he knows where to acquire the materials necessary to bring them out, Reborn is dimly aware of a muted sense of fury erupting beneath his skin.

Leon licks a stripe up the side of the Arcobaleno’s face, which spurs him back into action.

His footsteps are soundless, as always, when Reborn crosses the street in order to come face to face with the house he’s set his intense gaze on. There’s not much to it; it’s a plain house, on a plain street, in a plain neighborhood, with (supposedly) plain occupants.

But when his student, small and squeamish-looking when he peeks his head out of the doorway, turns his gaze on Reborn, something _clicks_ on.

Reborn doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see a smile in his life.

  
(Nor has he ever smiled so hard in his life.)


	2. Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry im late also my writing is garbage (but i love all of u guys so much !!! i didnt expect to get anycomments ohy myg o d)

Smuggling a pint-sized child into his messy bedroom is easier than it should be.

Tsuna throws a greeting at his mom before he goes upstairs, and for all that he’s gotten used to seeing her happy and healthy, it still steals his breath away. Perched on the shoulder facing away from the woman cooking in the kitchen, Reborn stills minutely at the sight of her.

They’re both stuck in an impasse on what to do, but it’s comforting to know that they have each other at the very least.

“So,” Tsuna starts after he’s closed his bedroom door. The brunet had spent the day compartmentalizing his room and, in return, his thoughts as well. Mindless tasks had served him well in the past- _future, it was the_ future- and Tsuna found the habit taking over his body before he could stop it. “I don’t-” Tsuna picks back up, but trails off just as quickly.

Reborn just hops off of his shoulder and onto Tsuna’s bed. There’s no hammock in here like there had been way back _before,_  but the hitman has gotten so used to sleeping in a shared bed that he much more prefers the warmth of another individual for company.

But the thought of Reborn sharing the bed with anyone else besides Tsuna makes him cringe uncomfortably, so he amends the notion.  

“You sound childish, dame-Tsuna,” Reborn comments passively, squaring his student with a _look_ that makes his stomach flail like a fish. “List off.”

“Woke up at 2:49 in the morning. Collected myself and checked the house. No bugs. Everything seems the same?” He answers back reflexively, Tsuna’s already too-high voice raising even further. “I can’t be completely sure, though. I mean, it’s only been a day.”

“Well, _I’ve_ been on a plane for about eight hours and spent another just getting here.”

Tsuna looks back to his tutor with a watchful eye. The hitman is perched on the edge of his bed now, legs dangling off the side. Knowing that the rest of the day isn’t going to go as simply as wasting his time by doing surprise cleaning, Tsuna sighs and trudges over to the bed.

He wastes no time fitting snugly into the hitman’s side, and they both take reassurance from one another’s heated bodies. There was a time when Tsuna wouldn’t have been so brazen, and he’s still usually a little skittish despite being thirty one years of age, but he’s grown bolder over the years.

After having taken over Vongola and decimating the previously ghoulish tendencies that had pervaded the mafia group, Tsuna had reformed it to fit more to the first boss’ liking. There had been some opposition (surprisingly none from Xanxus), but it had been a relatively successful mission. Of course, with his trustworthy and efficient guardians and friends by his side, Tsuna had made steady progress without having to even lift a finger.

The thought of his past friends and family leaves a twinge in his heart and an ache in his chest where his flame should be, but the gaping hole is temporarily filled at the warm press of Reborn’s hand on his wrist.

He can practically feel the words of reprimand forming in his tutor’s mind, and silently commends Reborn when he holds back on voicing his thoughts. Falling back on the soft comforter, Tsuna sighs loudly. The two of them need to figure out what course of action they are going to take.

It’s a saturday, a beautiful one at that, and the birds that chatter outside his window make the day seem more normal than it has proven to be thus far. When Tsuna looked at the calendar earlier in the day, he had realized that it was about a week or so before school began for him again.

Chancing a glance at Reborn, Tsuna catches the tail end of an inquisitive gaze.

“Was there anything urgent you wanted to have done?” Tsuna asks softly. “I start second grade in a little bit so there's not much I’ll be able to help with.”

He _could_ try sneaking out before or after school, but from what little Tsuna remembers about his time as a small child, his mother was especially vigilant in keeping her baby bird firmly in the nest. Her safe grip had severely loosened over the years, to the point where it had bordered on insanity, but luckily he had tempered the situation by moving her to Vongola-run facilities.

“I’ll do some checkups to see if we are the only ones here,” Reborn answers eventually, taking his trademark fedora off and placing it the bedside table. He makes sure not to knock over the radio or random pencils, and Tsuna traces his tutor’s movements with his eyes. “There’s time before I’ll be called in by Vongola, so in the meantime, I’ll start out by training you, dame-Tsuna.”

“Won’t the other Arcobaleno know you’re gone? And I don’t think it’ll go unnoticed if you suddenly stop taking hits,” he cautions, because for all Reborn is, he’s still the world’s greatest hitman. The title precedes him, which is exactly what they need most of the time, but in their current situation they don’t, not entirely.

“Timoteo is going to approach me for joint commissions next year,” Reborn says, nestling into Tsuna’s side. “So it might be worth it to take _some_ hits to evade suspicion. Once he tasks me with officially training you, I can forge responses and we can go from there.”

“And besides training me and taking hits, we need to be gathering my- _them-_ ” Tsuna cuts himself up, and the flashes of blood and gore makes him clam up for a second. He continues in a whisper. “Or should I not involve them? Should I even try to take over Vongola again?”

“Going solo would most likely be more effort and less rewarding than re-entering Vongola’s circle. Especially when we already know their dealings and where they are going in the future.”

Reborn is tempted to squeeze Tsuna’s wrist lightly again, so he does.

“It’s going to be a tough couple of years, isn’t it, Reborn?”

“When was having you around ever _easy,_ dame-Tsuna?”

“Touché.”

 

* * *

 

Their first day back together is spent planning carefully, hammering out the details of how they are going to spend the next few years. Call Tsuna a careful planner, but he doesn’t want the same outcome as their first try at life.

Papers are scattered around them haphazardly, and Reborn is typing away on a sleek, magenta laptop as if he owned it (and Tsuna is fairly sure he doesn’t). Their notes are simplistic at best, but they are trying to cover the tracks of the next six years in a clear and concise manner. Tsuna’s fingers aren’t used to gripping a pencil for so long, so it leaves his hand stinging, but it’s necessary.

Reborn had the advantage of being mindful of the mafia world (and otherwise) during this span of time, but Tsuna _hadn’t_ been, and they are both fumbling to make up for it.

Tsuna’s broken out of his work-induced haze when he hears his mom knocking on his door. He realizes with a start that it’s already time for dinner, and starts pushing all of the papers into a pile to be stowed under his bed. Reborn is already pushing the laptop away when he hears his mother sigh.

“What did we say about locked doors, Tsu-kun?” Nana asks, muffled behind the wooden frame. Her voice is melodic and supple, but most importantly it’s _light;_  light in the way that it hadn’t been for many many years. The hard edge that had taken over his mother’s voice is what had always scared him the most, and the not the precarious situation she had been in.

Trying to find an answer for her question, he scrambles to make sure that everything is back in place.

“That it makes us lock our hearts, too?” Tsuna settles on, the slur from his underdeveloped mouth making him cringe. He’s so _young,_  but Tsuna figures that's the only reason that he could shoot back that sort of answer when prompted.

The chirping laugh he gets from his mother at his reply fills his chest just a little bit more. She’s happy, and she’s _home._ And it’s something that Tsuna never, _ever_ wants to take away from her again, unintentional or not.

“Precisely,” Nana says, and he can hear her take in another strained breath before he finally reaches up and unlocks the door. There’s a tremble in her hand from where it’s poised over where the doorknob had been previously. Tsuna doesn’t need to look back to see that Reborn is hidden away somewhere in the room, but he desperately hopes that from where he is he can see beautiful, unmarred form of his youthful mother.

But the way she crouches down and places her hands on his shoulders in a tentative manner suggests that she isn’t as alright as she first appeared to be.

Tsuna doesn’t know quite exactly why she’s acting this way so early in his life, but he thinks he might have a small inkling.

“You’re my pride and joy, Tsu-kun,” She says, small and quiet like it’s their secret to keep from the world. “You know that, right?”

He can imagine Reborn saying something about him being _weak_ , but Tsuna could care less when he’s able to feel the soothing curve of his mother’s cheek against his neck when they hug. There’s a new life being blown into him, like a calming breeze that has been borne from the harsh cries of a storm. Tsuna can tell that his mother is surprised, but she relaxes against her only son.

“How about we both come down to eat, okay?”

The kitchen had always been the soul of their home, and Tsuna supposes that it’s the response to his mother’s lingering regret and attempt to push certain thoughts out of her head. Before- _after_ \- dear god this is _confusing-_ , Tsuna had visited his mother at random intervals, and even then, crippled and mangled both physically and mentally, she had retained her passion for cooking.

He supposes that she hadn’t taken up the habit in the best mindset, and the fact that she had completed her life - _too young she was_ too young- the same way made him feel like he had failed her in more ways than one.

The point that really drives his thoughts home is when she almost takes out three plates instead of two, and there’s an _aha_ moment.

Iemitsu (because that man has never truly been his father) has just abandoned them, and Tsuna’s all that is left of the house to help pick his mother back up.

Tsuna knows for a fact that, despite her cheery appearance and inviting demeanor, Nana is mostly without friends. She has a few that she had corresponded with, but that had stopped entirely when she had been transferred (which implied that they hadn’t been the ‘good friends’ she had described them as).

He desperately wishes that Reborn would be down here, tasting his mother’s cooking and seeing a face that they could usually only see in dreams and fantasies. His mother and his most trusted partner at his side is something Tsuna has always wanted to think about happening, but there has always been a reality to pull him back to the harsh realization that it was a deluded dream.

Tsuna almost cries when the achingly familiar taste of home-made curry runs over his palette vividly. Sure, Hayato had taken up cooking in light of his sister’s death, and the taste of _home_ had been there (as opposed to the cold-hearted suppers supplied by the kitchen staff), but the unique taste of his mother’s meals had been sorely missed.

“It tastes good, okaa-san.”

And if he slips a little bit away for Reborn to taste later, his mother is none the wiser.

 

* * *

 

The night falls quick and brisk, and Tsuna switches the fan on despite the cold. He feels a residual sense of pleasant security deep in his gut, and he rests his head on the smooth plane of the wall. Darkness has fallen on the Sawada house, but Tsuna feels deeply invigorated for the days to come.

Walking back over to the bed, Tsuna plucks the laptop out of Reborn’s stubby, little fingers, despite the ominous click of a gun that resounds through his room.

“Let’s get some rest, okay?”

Tomorrow is going to usher in a strict regimen that doesn’t allow for much slack, and Tsuna’s childish body is already starting to feel the fatigue of just being more excited than usual.  

There’s much comfort and a multitude of feelings of protection that he draws from laying down next to Reborn, and he knows that deep down the hitman would say the same about him. While still maintaining the role of professionalism and cold detachment that comes with being the boss of a mafia syndicate, Tsuna and Reborn had relied on each other.

 _Too heavily-_ Iemitsu had commented at one point or another when it had been just them and three of his guardians left.

(The only thing that had stopped them from retaliating was the acknowledgment that it was _true._ )

“Do you think things are going to turn out well?” Tsuna asks, still trying to calm his taut nerves. Reborn scoffs from across the brunet, turning over so they are both facing each other. “I don’t want to jinx us or anything, but it’s the new day, right?”

“If you have time to think of things like that, then you have time to sleep,” Reborn answers back calmly, stretching his limbs that are confined within pants and his undershirt. His full suit is folded neatly in the corner, out of sight if Nana should come back in.

“You must be terribly uncomfortable,” Tsuna offers, smiling at the hitman across from him. Reborn’s track record for sleeping in his work clothes wasn’t very high, given the man’s prim and proper attitude towards etiquette. “Are you going to create a schedule for the rest of the week?”

“It’ll be complete by the time you wake up, so don’t slack off, dame-Tsuna.”

 

* * *

 

Tsuna pants, but doesn’t stop running (there’ll be _hell_ to pay if he does) until he comes into sight of the corner store. He’s on his fifth lap of the area around his house (Reborn believes in _progressive learning_ ), but the brunet suspects that by the end of the week one lap will go from a few blocks to the entirety of Namimori.

It’s not the biggest town, nestled in between two patches of suburban areas and across from a more industrialized city, but for an eight year old the distance seems more like the width of Japan itself.

Way back- _before_ \- there had been more than one specialized training rooms, and one had an especially good running track that forced you to exude flames in order to stay on your feet. Of course, it’ll be a long time coming until Tsuna can fully let out the energy he can feel coiling beneath his skin and running rampant through the area where his soles slap the pavement, but it still makes him vibrate with excitement.

When he finally reaches the store, most of his muscles feel overstretched and pulled scarce, but the burn makes him truly feel _alive._

The elderly woman manning the front of the store is a spindly, frail thing, clicking her magenta colored fingernails on the cashier’s counter. She doesn’t greet Tsuna when he comes in, out of breath like a dog that’s been chasing an unruly cat through the neighborhoods, but she doesn’t watch him suspiciously, either.

Picking up a water bottle and a small bento box, Tsuna digs out the change he needs from the too-loose pockets of his grey shorts that are stuck and clinging to his leg due to the sticky sweat. When he’s out of the store he slowly walks to Namimori’s biggest park, shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the hazy summer sun. Even though he looks relaxed and tired, Tsuna’s still on the lookout for any of his future- _past-_  guardians, and he swears he sees a glimpse of yellow above his head (but he’s pretty sure it’s just the sun).

As he walks he chugs the water bottle and stuffs the contents of the bento into his mouth without restraint. Tsuna passes by a few people, ranging from other children to the old and decrepit, but none try to wave at him, so engrossed in their own tiny bubble that they wouldn’t even notice if the sun itself fell out of the sky and plummeted towards Earth.

The park is as lazy as the day suggests, and Tsuna’s sits in the shade of a tall, winding oak tree. Its roots are expanding outwards, twisting and changing, and the comfort he takes in leaning back against it’s strong, wooden frame makes him sigh.

He may be the _Sky_ , but he’s always found an interesting reliance in the ground.

(They compliment each other in a way, cast against one another, but never in a fight; always, _always_ to balance each other out.)

Glancing at the sky once more, Tsuna reckons he has another half an hour until he has to start his abdomen regimen. Following the movement of bird, he startles when a Chickadee comes to land on his calf. It chatters at him loudly, but Tsuna doesn’t really know what to do with it.

“Isn’t he pretty?”

Tsuna _doesn’t yelp,_ he merely _startles_.

A glance from his peripheral view has him looking twice, and then looking a third time. Tsuna can’t quite believe his eyes, and only years of experience holds him in place.

“I’ve been following him all day,” a small, childish version of Kyoko informs Tsuna with a serious expression. “He keeps running away.”

“I- uh,” Tsuna mutters unhelpfully, looking from the bird to _his-_ this _stranger._  She’s wearing a pretty, floral sundress, and the thing that he keeps his eyes on is her hair. It’s as short as he’s ever seen it, but he doesn’t think much of it. She keeps pulling up the sleeves of the t-shirt she has on underneath her dress, and Kyoko’s only wearing socks.

There’s a press of fabric under the dress, and Tsuna can’t help but let his thoughts wander. He ponders over her pre-pubescent fashion sense, but her voice brings him back to earth.

“Mommy says that if your mouth is _wiiddee_ open, you’ll catch some bugs!” Kyoko exclaims, leaning forward and giggling. “Do you want to go catch bugs? Then maybe birdy will want to play with me.”

Tsuna momentarily forgets Reborn’s plans, then mentally scolds himself for doing so. He doesn’t want to face his tutor’s wrath, but he also doesn’t want to pass up a chance to get closer to someone he might, in the future, trust with full confidence.

What’s the harm in skipping one day?

Tsuna picks himself up, wiping the dust off of his shorts and jostling his tired and stretched legs. The bird hops from his leg and flies to his head, and the position it takes, nestled in his brown locks, makes him smile gently. Kyoko blinks at him, but smiles and smiles and _smiles_ and it blows a breath of fresh air into his body. She rolls the edges of her dress in her fingers almost self-consciously but joins him in his standing position.

The brilliance of her form and the smart gleam that surrounds her is already starting to show up, and Tsuna knows that she will grow up to be the beautiful, talented friend and confident that he has- _had_ \- come to know her as.

“The best bugs are in the North section of the park,” Tsuna offers quietly, finally gaining his bearings. He points to a relatively large patch of tangled trees and barbed bushes in the distance.

Kyoko looks towards him in surprise but doesn’t miss a beat and blossoms happily. As they start to move away from the shade, and into the watching eye of the sun, Tsuna and Kyoko find their way to the new adventure of the day.

Later, when he catches a glimpse of Reborn out of the corner of his eye, Tsuna can’t even find himself feeling remorseful.

(He catches the reassuring and approving sharpness on the hitman’s face, which is mostly what dissuades his guilt at skipping on his first day of training.)

“When you pick them up, you gotta be careful of their _wings_ ,” Kyoko blathers on, picking up a cicada delicately and offering it to the bird on his head. She had started calling it Tanjou, and no matter what the stubborn bird kept refusing their bugly offerings. “Don’cha wish we could _fly_? Birds are so lucky, you know, being able to feel the clouds and stuff.”

The longer she talks, the more Tsuna falls into a relative peace. He doesn’t remember Kyoko ever being this talkative, but then again, most children are different from their older counterparts.

( _You can attest to that_ , a part of him, deep and dark and _predatory_ , whispers sourly into his ear, and he wants to erase it.)

He crouches down and picks up a beetle, sleek and shining in a patch of sunlight that has escaped through the leaves of the trees encasing them in their wide embrace. Tsuna lets Tanjou sniff at it, and he can’t actually see the bird but feels it peck at his scalp.

“I thought you said that birdies like bugs,” Tsuna hears Kyoko pipe up in a sullen manner. “Tanjou-tan hasn’t liked _anything_!”

Tsuna refrains from giggling like a loon at the pout on her face, but still grins at her.

“Maybe Tanjou just doesn’t like us.”

“Hey! We’ve been really, _really_ good to him and he’s going to love us. He’s our new bestest friend,” Kyoko challenges, cocking her hips and jutting her chin out in defiance. There's beads of sweat forming on her face and neck, and the double layering of clothes that she’s wearing must be utterly stifling. “But I might have to say goodbye to him for today, because it’s late and _mommy_ doesn’t like me goin’ off on my own and stuff. She’s really prickly about it too, like those weird balls that are in our backyard that hurt when you go out with no shoes on.”

Tsuna doesn’t know what to say, so he inquires, “So do you want to head back, then?”

She looks at the fading sun with no small amount of uncertainty, but nods her head once. Tsuna knows it’s probably time for him to head back anyways, but doesn’t really want to end the carefree and pleasant afternoon he’s been having thus far.

As they approach the edge of the park, Kyoko begins to fidget restlessly. Tsuna feels the same way to some degree, but he restrains himself. He wants, and he wants _desperately_ , to be able to become friends with her, but he doesn’t know where he should go from here.

When they reach the biking and walking path that runs parallel to the road, cars rushing to and fro on their way to get home in rush hour, Kyoko turns around. She sticks out her hand, surprisingly calloused for her age, and wipes the sweat off of her brow.

“It was good to meet you,” Kyoko says brightly, shining like the fading sun behind her. “My name’s Ryohei.”

_Oh._

“I’m Tsuna,” he barely manages to stutter out. She- he- _they_ shake their proffered hand in the empty air, before Tsuna hastily shakes their hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Kyo- _Ryohei_ \- exclaims, and then they are off, sprinting down the sidewalk Tsuna had initially come to the park through.

Tsuna just stands there, gawking at their back as they make haste to get home. Tanjou pecks his head in what he can only refer to as _Goodbye_ before it flutters off, the gentle summer’s evening breeze carrying it loftily towards the telephone wires that stretch in between the road. After a minute or two, he picks himself up mentally and stretches his tired legs once more before jogging home. His mother greets him when he arrives, the front door creaking open as he peeks his small head into the house.

He’s still shaken from his encounter but still manages a quick smile and greeting for his mother. Nana is busying herself in her beloved kitchen, and although she’s still struggling to keep a handle on the free reign she’s been given in the house now that Iemitsu is gone, Tsuna is already finding that she is taking it well. She had, too, in the _before_ , but watching it all go down right in front of his eyes reminds him of the cruel reality both he and his mother have been tossed into.

Tsuna pauses at the bottom of the staircase, though, and looks at his mother again. There’s a bounce in her step and a jingle to the tune of her pleasant humming, but when her hands shake when he sees them tremble ever so slightly at his unrepentant gaze, Nana freezes minutely. Shooting him an inquiring gaze and rubbing at her cheek, she turns back to him.

Tsuna feels something akin to a sob build in his chest, and the mutilated crying of his locked flames makes him shiver and quake with anguish.

Nana walks over to him before carefully taking her son, more a child right now than ever, and bringing him against her comforting chest. Tsuna knows it looks suspicious to pick up the habit of hugging his mother when he never did it _before_ , but he wants to indulge in this long-forgotten fantasy once more before locking the feelings deep within him alongside his flames. His emotions are his prison, but his flames are his unwilling prisoners.

Letting him go with a dazed expression, Nana picks herself up, the first of many times to come, and goes back to her kitchen with a heart that looks both heavier and lighter.

Finishing his ascent to his room, Tsuna closes the door behind him in relief.

“I don’t know whether you were watching or not- which, by the way, I bet you _were_ -, but things are-”

“-different.” Reborn finishes for him, and Tsuna watches as the hitman slicks his thumb with spit before using it to draw open the next page of the book he’s reading. _A Guide To the Travels_ , it reads, and Tsuna makes a brief mental note to ask the hitman about it later. “I had wanted to check in on our primary facts, but something was wrong. I hadn’t seen any mention of Timoteo having any sons.”

Tsuna frowns, but settles into the routine of changing his musty and damp clothes with a fresh set of pajamas while Reborn continues behind him.

“As it turns out, Timoteo ended up adopting _two_ sons instead of the one we both know. His name is Relarosa De’Contin. The most that I can find about his origins is that he was deposited at a french orphanage and indoctrinated into the mafia world, rather than starting out in it.”

Tsuna can tell there’s more, so once he's done changing he squares Reborn with a look, and asks, “Well, what else?”

“He murdered all of Timoteo’s biological sons with the help of one of the butlers stationed at the house.”

“ _What._ ” Tsuna clenches his fists into the fabric of his nightshirt, meeting his tutor’s eyes dark eyes. “That presents a great deal of problems for us, especially _me_ -”

“We’ll figure it out. In any case, Relarosa took the place of Xanxus and is currently iced.” And even though he thinks the kid might deserve it, Tsuna still grimaces at the mention of the punishment. When Tsuna sits down on the soft blankets, Reborn joins him. “I might ask Viper for more information on other things that have probable cause to be _different._ Although I still don’t know what my relationship to the other Arcobaleno is, I’ll scope them out. _”_

“Just don’t give too much away, okay?” Tsuna fiddles with the rim of Reborn’s fedora, letting Leon sniff his fingers before getting up and settling on his hand. The lizard lazily meanders up his arm before settling on his shoulder, where it falls dead asleep. “To be completely honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if even the order of the Arcobaleno has changed. Is that jinxing them? I would think that it is.”

“That’s not your problem to worry about, dame-Tsuna.”

They fall into a casual tennis match of amicable banter, their soft, hushed voices letting a waterfall of content spring forth from Tsuna’s chest.

When his mother calls him down to eat dinner, Tsuna’s _ready_ this time.

Later, when Tsuna is curled around Reborn like a leech attaches itself to bare skin, he’ll wonder what else doesn’t coincide with the world they had come from. What else they’ll have to plan for. What other _dangers_ there are that Tsuna won’t be able to protect them from. He’s Reborn’s Sky, in a less conventional sense than the normal guardian one, but they are tightly bound together. If not from their previous to present relationship, then from their shared situation the bond could have formed.

Sifting his fingers through Reborn’s silky, dark hair, Tsuna shifts so that he can see his tutor’s face. The baby-soft curves of his cheeks seem to be more hollowed in the darkness of night, the skin stretched tight over barely formed muscles. Reborn’s small, stubby fingers grasp the front of Tsuna’s nightshirt, and the brunet almost misses the teenaged body that Reborn had grown into pleasantly.  

The Arcobalenos had started aging normally once the curse had been lifted, and Tsuna had taken to teasing Reborn relentlessly over his puberty-ravaged body.

But right now it hurts to think of Reborn in a sense of childish spite, trapped within his own body once more, and now Tsuna can relate to the deeply buried ache that he’s always seen in his tutor.

Clinging to Reborn, Tsuna finds himself curled around the small Arcobaleno and whisked away into the pleasuring haze of sleep before he can blink again.

 

* * *

 

Tsuna spends the rest of his week training, and sure enough, by Friday he’s running the perimeter of the town. He’s definitely squared with a few looks, both chiding and worrying, due to the harshness of his visible strain, but he makes it through the motions with relative ease. Thankfully (or sadly), Tsuna doesn’t run into any of his past guardians on his rounds throughout the town.

The days have been either brightly sunny, with the sun and wind scorching his face and arms, or pale and rainy, the kind that makes Tsuna think of smoke and the crisp take of blade on skin.

Today’s particularly storming, and Tsuna contemplates whether he should throw his rain coat on. His mother will probably try to stop him on the way out, so he quickly throws on his battered running shoes and makes a hasty exit. Calling a quick goodbye over his shoulder, he barely hears Nana reciprocate the sentiment when he slams the door shut.

Reborn had left early in the morning, letting Tsuna press a quick kiss to his temple in his time of weakness against the backdrop of the before-dawn rain showers. Tsuna had stayed sitting by the open window for hours, hoping the sounds of rolling thunder and the waking city would cloud his thoughts to the point of him forgetting the hole reopening in his chest.

The Arcobaleno had departed later than he should, as to appease both himself and Tsuna their own time to relearn how to live properly again, but Reborn had other things to attend to. Besides needing to check back in with the other Arcobaleno, Reborn was the one to be saddled with the task of being their primary fact checker. Seeing as how Tsuna had no connections nor even the power to go outside the house on his own without his mother hounding him about safety, he was to be spending his time training and scoping out potential guardians.

( _They don’t necessarily have to be the same,_ Reborn had mentioned casually before his departure, and only someone who had known the man well would have seen the cautious glint in his eye. Whether Reborn had said it to squander Tsuna’s unrealistic expectations of who his guardians would be or to give himself as a viable guardian was left unknown.)

It’s with a heavy heart and a furrow blossoming on his brow that he leaves home, reluctant to step into the dreary, overcast weather that reflects his own feelings of inner turmoil.

So as such, it’s not until Tsuna has completed the first set of warm-up laps that he realizes that he’s being followed.

When he _does_ notice, Tsuna sighs audibly. Then, reprimands himself for doing so. However, Tsuna completes his laps despite the visitor tagging along with him. Mind running a mile a minute, Tsuna enters the park. He’s _supposed_ to be doing meditation exercises now, to help bring out his flames, but the throbbing heat that sticks to the back of his neck amidst the chill of the morning makes Tsuna feel as if he is a beacon of fire.

There are civilians around, he notes with an incredulous mind, eyes skimming the boundaries of the park. A fog is slowly wandering in, as if it were attracted to the unpleasant warmth that Tsuna is radiating. The pressure descends on him at once, as a pack of wolves might on a scrap of meat.

There’s something _wrong wrong_ wrong- but Tsuna just doesn’t know _what_.

He feels trapped, more so than he has the past week; helpless, and unable to see and pull the strings of change he had grown so used to carelessly admiring and playing with. Tsuna thinks he feels the barest whisper of touch on his place of burning intensity, and the quickness of his breath shudders to a stop.

The chirps and melodies of the flora and fauna seem to grow shrill, before fading away completely. There’s a faint echo in the back of his mind that slowly expands and grows into a striking cry, one that pounds the walls of his head and forces him to his knees as if in prayer.

Tsuna’s frantically searching the area, seemingly unaware of the burning in his eyes and the chalky pallor of his skin. There’s a moment where he believes to see red, and it forces a hitched sob out of his throat, but Tsuna just clutches the short, yellow-green grass and _prays_. Closing his eyes against the strain of tears, Tsuna desperately tries to reach out for his flames inside of himself to release him from what he can only assume is an illusion.

One moment he’s weeping as if he truly were the child he appears to be, and the next he’s standing back on two feet, his clammy, clenched hands slowly unfurling.

Face screwed up with an almost unearthly determination, Tsuna frantically searches everywhere. There are children playing and poking around the trees, the whispers of the wind, and a soft humming from beyond the park that seems to carry. The desolate cries of the cicadas seem to reflect his inner turmoil, and Tsuna blinks away the last of the haze clouding his vision.

There’s a keening sensation he can’t quite describe in his stomach, and Tsuna shakily makes his way to a nearby tree to calm down his unsteady breath. Tsuna wishes that Reborn were here, if only to give silent comfort, but the Arcobaleno is already halfway around the world by now (and with much more important duties to attend to than Tsuna’s own delusions). Whoever had been tailing him is gone now, but the fog remains. 

He sighs loudly, but manages to stall his emotions among the tranquil peace that accompanies the light drizzling rain. Still feeling devastatingly _empty_ , Tsuna starts towards an open patch of grass tucked away in the trees.

Heart caught in his throat, Tsuna begins to make his way through his schedule.

The list is already prepared, more so than he himself is, and it’s _easy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but also if u want to beta-read this story/bounce ideas off of me also help me fact check my khr knowledge pls contact me thru google hangouts (im palliris kiessa on g+) bc number one i didnt think i was going to mess with canon until i started actually Writing Shit


	3. Rinse and Repeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to @Annafyn omg, first 1k was written a year ago so if the style suddenly changes, sorry fam
> 
> i done did it, srry its kinda lame (also finished my other work and now have to get ready for nanowrimo so...........)

Class is basically as boring as he remembers it.

Stifling a yawn, Tsuna shakes out his shoulders and focuses back on their teacher. At least with this fresh, new slate he can probably convince his teachers that he’s decent at completing his schoolwork. He’s not really sure he wants to spend years pretending he’s as clumsy as he once was, but in the long run, trying to keep himself the same as he was _before_ might be the best course action.

“And what is _this_ color, Tsunayoshi?”

Startling out of his thoughts, the child stutters out an answer, looking at the piece of yellow cloth with a strong sense of longing. Looking away and out the window, Tsuna fiddles with the edges of his long, standard-issued shirt all of the kids are wearing. It’s been a week since he started school again- and by that he truly means _again-_ and although he’s kept in touch with Reborn, the loss is still chipping away at his chest.

Tsuna rubs at his eyes, but scans the room. He vaguely recognizes some of the children here, knows _who_ they grow up into, but at the same time has no idea how their seed of life will be cultivated. Treating things as if they were the same was a bad apple he had already bitten into, and he didn’t really want to do so again.

Peering out the window again, Tsuna goes still in his seat when he feels the strange presence again. It had been cautiously following him around ever since that day at the park, and although it hadn’t done anything else to cause him pain Tsuna was still wary of it.

Whether it was friend or foe had not been made clear to him- _yet._

When their teacher, a kind, young woman fresh out of college with a slight limp and looming dimples in her smile, tells them to bring out their lunches from the cubbies, Tsuna waits until everyone has gotten up before meandering into the swarm of small children. It’s a bit of a hassle, dealing with actual children. Of course Tsuna had always been adept at keeping Lambo or I-Pin relatively happy and healthy, but that was when he had been _bigger-_ and not the same size.

Tsuna wonders if Reborn ever had to deal with small children while he was an Arcobaleno, and figures he must have. It’s a bit foggy in his mind when his tutor had started tutoring, beginning with Dino, but the Cavallone must have at least been twelve or so.

Munching on a stray piece of celery, Tsuna is broken out of his reverie when someone kicks his desk.

“Whaddya got there, Tuna?”

Tsuna looks up, expression vacant. The smaller, skinny child is looking at him with an exaggerated scowl. The kid paints such a picture akin to that of a playground bully that Tsuna almost giggles.

“It’s called celery,” Tsuna says, putting his best smile on to throw the boy off. “D’you want some?”

The classroom is fairly noisy, with a constant stream of chatter going around them. Tsuna continues to smile curiously at the kid in front of him. The boy is lean in a way that might be unhealthy, and the pudge from his cheeks has already been stolen despite not even being out of his youth. Dark, raven hair curls around his forehead loosely, his nose sharp and upturned from his sneer.

“You can’t- _no,_ I don’t want your _celery!_ ‘Sides, green stuff is gross,” he growls, teeth grinding together. “You’re gonna turn green from eatin’ it!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tsuna murmurs, tugging on the other child’s hands. He settles down into the chair beside Tsuna’s with protest, but eventually falls slack into the chair with a slump. “Try some?”

The boy vehemently shakes his head, puffing his cheeks out. Tsuna laughs, presence outside the window in the back of his mind, but not forgotten.

“Suit yourself,” Tsuna says faux-cheerfully, going back to crunching on his lunch. The depressing thoughts regarding the departure of his lifetime companion are still swirling around in his head, but he resolves to settle on blinding his mind from it for the time being.

Tsuna startles when the boy snags a piece of celery, but settles again with a smile as he eats all of it.

“Do you have anywhere to be after school?”

* * *

Stepping on a small twig with a seemingly loud _crunch_ , Tsuna winces and continues on through the small park forest. The presence had left right after Tsuna had finished school, but he still has his ears and sensors on the look out for whoever- or _what_ ever- it might be.

“It’s all gross and muddy here, Tuna,” Kensuke says, because it had been glaringly obvious from the start. Even though the two of them had grown into a sort of partnership-based deal _then,_ Tsuna hadn’t thought anything of the other man much before that. “Where are we goin’, anyways?”

“Out,” Tsuna answers knowingly, chirping out a small laugh when Kensuke grumbles out a groan. “It’s just a little farther, Ken.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that-”

“Well, if you stop calling me Tuna then I’ll stop calling you Ken,” he tries to bargain, shaking his head when Kensuke runs into a tree ahead of him. There’s a small pause where the boy regains his footing, rubbing at his nose with his shoulders hunched. Tsuna supposes it’s cute in a way, but he remains silent to keep in better favor of his blue haired companion.

“You didn’t see anything!” Kensuke shouts, plundering back on through the trees and shrubbery.

“Whatever you say, Ken,” Tsuna murmurs, rubbing a slightly sweaty palm on his shorts. It’s cool in the shade of the forest, but just hot enough to be on the verge of mildly discomforting. He looks to his right, and scopes out a small cove hidden in the trees. Despite his best efforts, Tsuna’s hit with a sudden yearning for his partner- because picnics were always great for days off- and he turns his attention back to Kensuke.

He’s about to call out to him but another voice catches his attention before he can.

 _“Tsuna!”_ And then he’s staring at a strangely exuberant mix of Ryohei and Kyoko, waving his arms wildly at Tsuna. Today he’s chosen to forgo the dress and just let his undergarments be seen; a plain pair of khakis and t-shirt. “It’s so hot out here! I was waiting so long; but don’t worry, Tanjou and me were holdin’ down the fort!”

Just barely catching himself from correcting Ryohei’s grammar, Tsuna greets him before turning to Kensuke.

“Ken, this is Ryohei,” Tsuna starts, sitting down on a log and watching the two with subtly amused eyes. It wouldn’t do to force them, but he can at least guide his them.

Seeing them as children is still disconcerting. The tall, sturdy image of the two of them overlaps his eyes for the briefest of seconds before he can remove it. It makes something equally warm and fond fall through his stomach, but there’s also a sharp spear of longing.

Tsuna longs for the future; craves it even, despite how bad it was. He knows it’s a terrible thing to want, but he still does.

There’s something these two can’t give them. Something that Reborn can; and even he’s gone at the moment. But for now, this will have to do.

Watching as Ryohei starts to tug Kensuke along, Tsuna sighs fondly. The sun shifts through the cracks of the trees and swathes them in a silky, orange light, and Tsuna thinks that maybe this alternative isn’t too bad. It’s better than everyone dying, anyhow.

The two kids get along surprisingly well. Ryohei’s utter cheer combines in a peculiar way with Ken’s bitterness, and both of them end up taking a natural liking to taking care of things.

“D’you wanna hold Tan too?” Ryohei asks, and Tsuna holds out his hand. The bird flies onto his outstretched arm, pecking at his skin. With a small smile, Tsuna strokes the soft feathers on Tanjou’s head. It preens in his hand, wings fluttering and shaking around.

They spend the rest of the day like that. There’s no homework- as rudimentary as it is- and he has a distinct feeling that Ryohei doesn’t go to school, so they have some time. For Kensuke, it seems like it’s too little time. For Ryohei, just enough.

For Tsuna, it’s entirely too much. He knows he’s putting off his own planning and training, as well as not taking time to research the presence that had been following him. Appearing normal and unaware is his plan at the moment, because the moment he starts poking his nose into sensitive information, it’ll be too late. Tsuna’s position will be compromised.

He needs to remain as he is; an unsuspecting child.

As the three of them part, Tsuna feels another chill in his stomach. He chalks it up to the blowing breeze, but he knows it’s not really about that.

The sight of their turned backs is enough to make his body queasy. Swallowing back the bile in his throat, Tsuna slips his broken in tennis shoes out of his bag. He stows his backpack under a bush near the center of the park before he starts running.

Running is easy. Training will always provide him with a familiar comfort, so he throws himself into it wholeheartedly. He hadn’t always felt this way, but there’s nothing better than feeling out of breath, limbs tired and boneless.

Seeing his mom is less familiar to him, but even more fulfilling. When she opens up the door to let him in, Tsuna has to gulp down the painful cry he wants to let out. Her eyes are so clear and true, unlike the dull, lifeless tone they had taken on right before her death.

She cooks and worries after him, guiding Tsuna to the bathroom where she wipes his face down. He washes his hands with careful scrutiny to the tune of his mom’s whistling in the kitchen.

Tsuna feels warm, and home. There’s not much else to think, really. There’s people missing, but he feels surrounded by his loved one in spirit.

“Spirit, huh?” Tsuna whispers to the moon later that night. His head is perched on his hands, eyes trying not to linger on the corner of his room. Reborn hadn’t brought his old-time, hanging hammock, so the space feels desolate and empty. “Ugh.”

Reborn.

Reborn, Reborn, _Reborn-_

“What is _wrong_ with me,” the boy laments. He’s disturbingly codependent; almost to an unhealthy state.

He supposes he deserves it; having a second chance like this is too much of a gift. What would any positive outcome have without its drawbacks? A perfect world wasn’t possible, no matter how many times someone tried to create one.

Back at the end, Reborn had been the last. Mukuro, before that; lost and without his tempestuous anchor, driven to the brink of insanity even without the aid of the dying embers of the world.

The Arcobaleno had asked him about it once.

_“What’s the ideal world?”_

Tsuna had been 18. His answer, long forgotten, had been something along the lines of _family._

Later, much later, Reborn had asked again. The pair had been huddled together in a bunker, waiting away the last days of the world for the sun to die out. Shivering, starving bodies were piled around them, clutching each other and wondering when they would finally stumble upon hell’s door and just be done with it.

Tsuna had been 38, and terribly, hopelessly lost in life. He couldn’t see, not since his eyes had been torn and ripped to shreds. It had been that way since year 36, and Tsuna had missed the sight of Reborn’s face. He could conjure an image mentally, but it just wasn’t the same.

The conclusion that Tsuna had come to on his idea of an ideal world was one where he could see Reborn’s smile again.

Looking back to the moon, Tsuna thinks that maybe it’s winking at him. Watching the world from afar as it goes to hell, and laughing. He’s not certain, but he supposes that he’s the butt of a joke.

An array of stars twinkle above him, as if chattering about his demise. Making a joke out of his plights.

“What a mess we’ve made,” Tsuna sighs, scratching at his nose and smelling the natural, earthy scent from outside.

When all of Tsuna’s sight had left him, the senses that remained seemed to amplify. The horrible, grungy taste of blood in his mouth and the ashy smell of burning bodies were something that never seemed to go away. Even now, there are phantom sensations of it lingering on him like a parasitic leech. In what little time they had spent plastered together in this time, Reborn had relieved some of that.

But now, all he has is his own mind for company. It’s a vast and lonely place, and he thinks he can hear the edge of his locked away flame screaming into the abyss. It sounds dark and jet-black, but most of all, it sounds like-

Himself.

Tsuna doesn’t truly know what the effects to having his flames sealed are, but it had definitely affected his mind when he was first growing up. The clumsiness might have also been a side-effect of it, but he can’t be too sure. Research into it had never been carried out, since it was done so rarely, and Neo-Vongola hadn’t wanted to dirty their hands by sealing Sky Flames.

If Tsuna had given the go-ahead, he has no doubt the bioscientist unit would have happily carried out experiments. Just the thought of what they might do sends a shiver down his spine. The screams seem to increase.

When Tsuna first woke up here, that was the first sound he heard. It was disorienting, but not uncommon, given where he had lived previously. His first instinct was to curl closer to Reborn, clutch the man’s hand tighter as they supported one another. Reborn had never hesitated to let Tsuna wrap his arms around the other himself, and Tsuna derived great deals of stability from being able to safely protect something.

He does this now, except with only a pillow from his bed. It feels terribly cold and soft, and nothing like the hard, warm planes of Reborn’s body.

Without even trying to stop himself, Tsuna looks to his bedside table. On it, there’s a small, black phone on it that reflects the moonlight from it’s glass screen. He could call the Arcobaleno if only to hear his voice, but he doesn’t know what Reborn is in the middle of doing. It would be a misstep to contact him while in the middle of doing something of importance, after all.

And even though he knows Reborn won’t _really_ punish him, the thought still hangs in his mind.

Shrugging off the thought, Tsuna sighs and goes to tuck himself in. His arms wrap around the pillow, but all he can think about as he drifts off is _Reborn, Reborn, Reborn-_

* * *

 

Tsuna wakes up to the taste of blood in his mouth. He turns his tongue over it, lapping it up and identifying it as his own. It takes a few seconds before he becomes truly cognizant of his surroundings.

Deciding it was just a case of him biting down a scream in his sleep, Tsuna yawns as he begins stretching. It had always been imperative to stifle any sounds when on the move, and he had picked up the habit because of it. One too many nightmare-induced screams and a few dead bodies was enough to nip that bud on the head.

Throwing on his decidedly small clothing and trudging downstairs, Tsuna relishes in just how soft the fabric of his shirt is. Nana is in the kitchen, making eggs.

“Sleep well, Tsuna?”

He smiles. “Yeah, mom.”

She ruffles his large, poofy hair affectionately as she passes to go wash her hands and he just manages to catch himself from reaching out to her. Such basic touch so early in the morning is still unfamiliar grounds.

Breakfast is a calm and quiet affair. Everything seems so normal; Tsuna wonders why he hates it for that. Thankful, yes, but unmotivated to think of it as anything more than superficial.

Everything will change soon, whether the world knows it or not. Here in his dining room, underneath too-yellow lamplight and aware of every single sound in his house’s radius, Tsuna feels utterly small. A better person might call it humbling.

Tsuna calls it terrifying.

He doesn’t want to touch the eggs in front of him and ruin the picture. There’s something so immaculate about the imagery that he’s afraid of disturbing, but he knows that it’ll happen whether he’s on board or not.

He eats his eggs.

Nana wishes him good luck before he goes to school, and Tsuna waves back to her when he’s unlocking the front gate. The walk itself is quick, and it gives him little time to think. Tsuna will probably just zone out during class to his headspace, anyways.

There’s something about the way he sits in a desk that gives him the chills. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he starts to feel the beginning of a prick forming on the back of his neck.

He’s being watched. Forcing his breath to stay still, he lets his heart race slightly at the now-familiar sensation of his mysterious stalker. If this were any other version of himself, Tsuna would waste no time tracking down the mysterious individual.

Hell, he’s tempted to do it just to see what kind of face they make. If they even _have_ a face. He supposes it isn’t that uncommon to not have one, with what he’s seen. And Tsuna has seen a lot; even before his sight was destroyed and thrown away.

Casually glancing out the windows, his eyes drift lazily across the surrounding area without seeming too sudden or suspicious. He desperately misses when he could use his flames to pick out where things were, but he supposes he’ll have to deal with just this for now. It’s not hard, though, to find out where his stalker is hiding. They don’t do a particularly hard job hiding it.

It’s somewhere towards the back of his vision, hidden away in the street in front of their school.

He’ll case the place out tomorrow, when he has a break from his regular schedule. Mostly, because Tsuna is allowed to call Reborn tomorrow.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tsuna looks back to the board. Mathematics is the current topic, and he sighs as he mentally runs straight through every single problem in seconds. The whole entire curriculum is entirely boring, but he knows he has to keep up with appearances.

That’s all he seems to be doing, lately.

He chatters with Kensuke during lunch, doodles his way through school, and meets his two friends after school ends to play and relax. Then, he runs.

He runs, and he runs, and he runs.

Tiring his body out never stops his mind, though. There’ll always be something there; something hidden away, tucked into a corner and told never to come out. Tsuna hopes that Reborn can find all of the necessary ingredients to bring his flames back out, because he doesn’t know if he can take any more of this. The constant screaming just keeps getting louder the more aware he becomes of it.

When night hits, he stares at the phone again. It’s now his only connection back to his old time, seeing as how the Arcobaleno hadn’t thought to leave anything else behind. He hadn’t even left Tsuna with a single shirt to curl up against and remember vaguely. Even the scent of spice and contempt Reborn had left on his sheets were gone once his mom had washed them. Carried away by the wind and ground into dust.

Tsuna picks at the skin of his fingernails, and yawns. It’s quickly becoming a terrible habit of his to look up at the moon longingly. If he had to guess, Tsuna would say it’s an adverse coping mechanism. Making himself stop fidgeting, Tsuna sits as still as he can.

Calming down his breathing, he crosses his legs and lets the moon watch over him. He feels it’s gaze on him as he begins to meditate. It’s easy to fall into a trance, despite how little practice he’s had with it before.

Observing the world around him with closed eyes, Tsuna takes note of the noise his fan makes. Then, he counts each individual blade and counts how many times they spin around per minute. Moving on, Tsuna feels the slight breeze coming in from the window, then places all of the smells within it. The sound of his own heartbeat seems to drum in his ears once he blocks everything else out, with even the screaming fading away into the background.

It’s just Tsuna. No one else.

When he starts going through himself, he doesn’t realize what he’s found at first. It’s bright and warm, with soft edges and a dense core. The weight of it feels immaculate in his hands, but then he touches it and it expands to cover his whole torso. There’s a distinct feeling of everything being _right_ before he hears a click, and then sees no more.

To be fair, Tsuna has no idea what he’s doing at first.

The pressure starts in his feet, then works its way up to his hands, then to his heart and head. It fills him like honey, and Tsuna can’t stop it from traveling. It seems to have a mind of its own, and a _heart_ of its own. Even so, the most primitive part of Tsuna knows that it’s a piece of himself.

“Whoops,” he breathes out, opening his eyes and looking at his clenched fists. The air seems to rush out of his lungs as he looks down. They’re glowing a hot, mellow orange. Flexing his fingers, the flames follow his movements and shine even brighter, as if flourishing under the attention he’s giving them. It’s the first time they’ve been allowed to come out in years, after all.

He supposes he wasn’t meant to do that. Most definitely not.  

Without thinking, he tests it out. They sputter up and follow his instructions to the T, and Tsuna knows he’s in for trouble. He wonders if this is reason enough to call Reborn early, and reasons that the other man would enjoy having to spend less time gathering materials to unlock his flames. Getting up and stretching out his legs, Tsuna recalls the flames and goes to shut the bedroom window. Just before he can, though, he spots the presence again.

He wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t been outlined in strikingly cold blue, and tinged with an edge of purple. It’s jarring to him, frankly, and Tsuna snaps the window down without thinking. He clumsily locks it with jittering hands, as if it’s only now that he’s feeling the effects of waking up his flames.

Picking up the phone with a new haste, Tsuna shakily presses down Reborn’s phone number. They hadn’t bothered to put any numbers in for safety concerns, but he had memorized this number years ago.

“Please, please pick up, Reborn,” Tsuna whispers, climbing onto his bed. The sheets are soft, but provide him with no comfort.

Then he hears the sound of the receiver being picked up, and Tsuna thanks whatever god there may be for it.

“Yes?” Reborn’s voice filters through. He sounds tired, and slightly annoyed, but not angry with Tsuna. Never angry; at least, not anymore. There’s a moment where Tsuna feels too small to even talk, but he eventually manages to find his voice.

“Reborn,” Tsuna whimpers, and he sounds so pathetic in his own ears that he cringes away from the phone. He needs to be stronger, and not just for himself; for Reborn, as well. “I woke my flames up. On accident.”


End file.
